Chess An Adapted Screenplay Take Two
by Thom Boyer
Summary: A screenplay based on the Rice/Andersson/Ulvaeus/Nelson/Rudolfsson/Bennett/Sharman/Bell/Coe/MacAnuff, etc. musical. Romance and intrigue play themselves out at a World Chess Championship in 1980.
1. Chess I OvertureThe Story of Chess

ARCHIVE FOOTAGE  
  
As the Overture starts, black-and-white footage displays tanks rolling  
through the streets of Budapest during the 1956 uprising. They  
rollsilently, ominously in and out of the frame.  
  
REPORTER  
...in what is being dubbed an unwarranted act  
of aggression on the part of the Soviet  
government. Some would speculate that these  
Hungarian Freedom Fighters would be front  
runners for Time Magazine's annual "Man of the  
Year" award.  
  
STILL PHOTOGRAPH  
  
An 8-year-old girl, YOUNG FLORENCE Vassy, alone on a checkered floor,  
looking out at a pile of rubble from a bombed-out building.  
  
INTERVIEWER (V.O.)  
Now, how do you like America so far?  
  
YOUNG FLORENCE (V.O.)  
It's big.  
  
A TELEVISION PROGRAM  
  
Young Florence sits next to a PROFESSOR and across from an INTERVIEWER.   
Suppressed laughter sounds from the live audience.  
  
PROFESSOR  
Young Florence here is just one of the hundreds  
of children we've been able to rescue from  
Hungary so far.  
  
She hugs the professor's arm.  
  
INTERVIEWER  
(smiling)  
Well, she seems to have taken a liking to you.  
  
More suppressed laughter from the audience.  
  
STILL PHOTOGRAPH  
  
A black-and-white image of an idyllic day on the grounds of Princeton  
University. 21-year-old FLORENCE VASSY and 19-year-old FREDERICK  
TRUMPER exchange a kiss across a chessboard, apparently set at some  
point mid-game.  
  
JOURNALIST (V.O.)  
...at Princeton University, where Florence  
Vassy, poster child for the Hungarian  
revolution, has turned out all grown-up, hand  
in hand with rising American chess genius  
Frederick Trumper. Do I hear wedding bells?   
Stay tuned as this reporter looks deeper on The  
Inside Scoop.  
  
ARCHIVE FOOTAGE  
  
A series of explosions in the Afghan mountains as Soviet aircraft  
streak overhead.  
  
REPORTER (V.O.)  
(through considerable static)  
The situation has been progressively worse over  
here...  
  
STILL PHOTOGRAPH  
  
Frederick Trumper, wearing a shirt proclaiming "I am a chess champion!"  
speaks at an anti-Soviet rally.  
  
NPR REPORTER (V.O.)  
...as the United States has now withdrawn from  
this year's Summer Olympic games in protest of  
the Afghanistan crisis. The games are still to  
be held in Moscow, without the backing of  
several Western nations.  
  
INT. PIONEERS' PALACE, MOSCOW--BROADCAST FOOTAGE  
  
ANATOLY SERGIEVSKY, a stately man in his late 30s, rises from a seat  
and shakes hands with a gaggle of men in suits surrounding a table.  
  
JOURNALIST (V.O.)  
In a statement delivered by the president of  
the World Chess Federation, it was announced  
that this year's world championship would  
proceed as scheduled.  
  
INT. FIDE PRESS ROOM--BROADCAST FOOTAGE  
  
The ARBITER, a seemingly British man in his early 40s, stands behind a  
lectern with two female ASSISTANTS, each looking like a sexualized  
librarian, to each side of him. He addresses a gaggle of REPORTERS OS.  
  
ARBITER  
Frankly, the Olympics are for amateurs, and  
these national boycotts are the kind of  
amateurish behavior I would expect from those  
games.   
I hereby announce that this year's tournament  
between World Champion Frederick Trumper and  
the Soviet Challenger Anatoly Sergievsky will  
not be affected by the war in Afghanistan or  
any other spats of nuclear paranoia.  
  
INT. MARRIOTT HOTEL LOBBY, PHILADELPHIA--ARCHIVE FOOTAGE  
  
The lobby is a mob scene, filled wit PHOTOGRAPHERS, JOURNALISTS, and  
FANS. A banner hangs in the background reading "Trumper-Karpov, 1978."  
  
ARBITER (V.O.)  
Chess has never been about politics.  
  
Two flags hang beneath the banner - an American beneath Trumper's namd,  
and a Soviet beneath Karpov's. FREDDIE TRUMPER, a slim, mildly  
disheveled man in his late 20s, is revealed as he is hoisted onto the  
shoulders of a couple of fans.  
  
ARBITER (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
It is about strategy, discipline, and intense  
concentration.  
  
Some from the mob tear the American flag off the wall.  
  
ARBITER (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Its nations are simple - black and white...  
  
The flag is rolled into a ball and tossed to one of the fans holding  
Freddie.  
  
ARBITER (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Neither adheres to any particular ideology,  
only its color.  
  
The fan unravels the flag and tosses it over Freddie's shoulders.   
Freddie lets it drape there as he triumphantly shoots his arms into the  
air.  
  
ARBITER (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Politics do not enter into it.  
  
INT. FIDE PRESS ROOM--BROADCAST FOOTAGE  
  
The same conference as before. Camera flashes abound as the Arbiter  
finishes his remarks.  
  
ARBITER  
All that the game needs is to remain the model  
of decorum and tranquility that it has always  
been.  
  
Applause as he bows his head and walks off, followed by his four  
assistants.  
  
INT. ANATOLY'S APARTMENT, MOSCOW  
  
The apartment carries its own unique sense of Soviet decadence - a  
display of reproduced icons, bookshelves stuffed with Russian  
literature, philosophy, and chess strategy, various paintings and  
carvings, a Soviet flag near the doorway. Anatoly sits in a leather  
chair, contemplative and unshaven, perusing a book entitled "Trumper  
vs. Karpov - 1978," with a chessboard in front of him. A woman steps  
in - SVETLANA SERGIEVSKA, in her mid-30s - wearing a black, almost  
puritan dress. A music-box waltz begins to play.  
  
SVETLANA  
Tolya...  
  
ANATOLY  
Hm?  
  
She crosses the room and leans on his chair's armrest.  
  
SVETLANA  
Your breakfast is ready. You wre up so early,  
I thought maybe you had found a mistress.  
  
She slides down in the chair and puts her arm around him.  
  
SVETLANA (CONT'D)  
(kissing him)  
And I can see I was right; you always need her.  
  
ANATOLY  
(wriggling)  
Please...  
  
SVETLANA  
I'm sorry...  
  
She places her hands on his shoulders and begins to massage them.  
  
SVETLANA (CONT'D)  
You are here so seldom now.  
  
Her hands move inward, rubbing above and around his collarbone and  
working his upper back. Anatoly remains stalwart; he turns a page.  
  
SVETLANA (CONT'D)  
I miss you. I miss my husband.  
  
ANATOLY  
When this match (is over) -  
  
Her hands reach his neck; one of his hands swiftly clamps down on hers.   
He turns to her, and she backs away, sliding herself off the chair.  
  
SVETLANA  
I will...set you a place at the table.  
  
She exits into the kitchen; Anatoly puts the book down and looks at the  
board in front of him. He moves a piece.  
  
INT. A BOMBED-OUT BUILDING -TWILIGHT  
  
The same building from the photograph of Young Florence. The Arbiter,  
carrying a briefcase, walks in through the hold that opens out into the  
street. He surveys the room. Dust and pebbles covering sixty-four tan  
and brown tiles make up the center of the floor, with two tiles' width  
around that forming a perimeter between there and the walls. Where the  
walls aren't completely blown apart, they are cracked; scorched  
canvases adorn them. The wire frame of a chandelier with no candles  
hangs from the ceiling.  
  
The Arbiter snaps his fingers, and an AMERICAN SOLDIER wearing Marine  
dress blues is escorted into the room by two of the Arbiter's  
assistants. Behind them, a SOVIET SOLDIER in a Navy dress uniform is  
escorted by the other two assistants. A WOMAN IN BLUE trails them.   
Her dress is silken, and she wears a tasteful gold cross necklace. All  
seven gather in a semi-circle around the Arbiter.  
  
ARBITER  
(addressing them)  
EACH GAME OF CHESS  
MEANS THERE'S ONE LESS  
VARIATION LEFT TO BE PLAYED  
  
He sets his briefcase on the ground.  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
EACH DAY GOT THROUGH  
MEANS ONE OR TWO  
LESS MISTAKES REMAIN TO BE MADE  
  
The Arbiter kneels down and opens the briefcase. The two soldiers eye  
each other warily as two of the assistants take them to opposite ends  
of the rom. The other two remain standing by the Arbiter.  
  
ASSISTANTS  
EACH GAME OF CHESS  
MEANS THERE'S ONE LESS  
VARIATION LEFT TO BE PLAYED  
  
The Arbiter removes two 9mm pistols from the briefcase. He hands one  
to each of the two remaining assistants, who in turn bring them to the  
soldiers.  
  
ASSISTANTS (CONT'D)  
EACH DAY GOT THROUGH  
MEANS ONE OR TWO  
LESS MISTAKES REMAIN TO BE MADE  
  
The assistants guide the soldiers back to the middle of the room, their  
backs turned to each other. The Arbiter raises his arm. The woman in  
blue watches them worriedly as they begin to pace, as though for a  
duel.  
  
ARBITER  
NOT MUCH IS KNOWN  
OF EARLY DAYS OF CHESS  
BEYOND A FAIRLY VAGUE REPORT  
THAT FIFTEEN HUNDRED YEARS AGO  
TWO PRINCES FOUGHT  
THOUGH BROTHERS FOR A HINDU THRONE  
  
The Arbiter claps his hands. The assistants scatter to the four  
corners of the room, and the soldiers cock the barrels of their  
pistols.  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
THEIR MOTHER CRIED  
FOR NO ONE REALLY LIKES  
THEIR OFFSPRING FIGHTING TO THE DEATH  
  
The woman in blue rushes to the American soldier.  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
SHE BEGGED THEM -  
  
WOMAN IN BLUE  
STOP THIS SLAUGHTER!  
  
ARBITER  
WITH HER EVERY BREATH  
BUT SURE ENOUGH, ONE BROTHER DIED  
  
The Arbiter snaps his fingers again. The Soldiers turn and fire. The  
Soviet soldier falls dead to the floor. The woman in blue wails and  
rushes over to him. She gently strokes his cheek as the assistants  
rush over to carry off the body.  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
(as the Assistants lift the body)  
SAD BEYOND BELIEF  
SHE TOLD THE WINNING SON  
  
WOMAN IN BLUE  
(rising, to American Soldier)  
YOU HAVE CAUSED SUCH GRIEF  
I CAN'T FORGIVE  
THIS EVIL THING YOU'VE DONE  
  
The American soldier drops the pistol and rushes to the woman in blue,  
pantomiming his pleas for mercy.  
  
ARBITER  
HE TRIED TO EXPLAIN  
HOW THINGS HAD REALLY BEEN  
(looks at the Woman in Blue)  
BUT HE TRIED IN VAIN  
NO WORDS OF HIS  
COULD MOLLIFY THE QUEEN  
  
The woman in blue turns and walks out through the giant hole in the  
wall. The American soldier turns to the Arbiter.  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
AND SO HE ASKED  
THE WISEST MEN HE KNEW  
THE WAY TO LESSEN HER DISTRESS  
  
The four assistants re-appear at the entrance. They take one step into  
the room.  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
THEY TOLD HIM  
HE'D BE PRETTY CERTAIN TO IMPRESS  
  
A rank of eight soldiers appears behind each of them - two ranks of  
American soldiers, two ranks of Soviet soldiers. The assistants file  
them in...  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
BY USING MODEL SOLDIERS  
ON A CHECKERED BOARD  
TO SHOW IT WAS HIS BROTHER'S FAULT  
  
...as though setting up a human chess game.  
  
ARBITER (CONT'D)  
THEY THUS INVENTED "CHESS."  
  
DISSOLVE TO:  
  
INT. TRAIN - DAY 


	2. Chess II Where I Want to Be

INT. TRAIN - DAY  
  
A modestly sized compartment with a large window framed by burgundy  
curtains. A woman - FLORENCE VASSY, early 30s - sits in her plush  
seat. A leggy brown-eyed brunette with a default sad, contemplative  
gaze - the kind of mystique a man would leave his homeland behind to  
unravel. She has a saucer in one hand and a tea cup in the other. She  
takes a sip.  
  
SUBTITLE: "Italy, 1980"  
  
FREDDIE (O.S.)  
Your move.  
  
Across from her sits Freddie, portable chess set in hand. She sets the  
saucer and cup on the windowsill and leans over to the board. She  
moves a piece.  
  
FLORENCE  
You've seen the headlines?  
  
FREDDIE  
(smiles)  
Which one this time?  
  
FLORENCE  
The Post. Said you'd be better suited to  
hockey.  
  
FREDDIE  
I'm not the physical type.  
  
FLORENCE  
They mentioned that. Something about how it  
would be a merciful end to your career.  
  
Freddie chuckles as he makes his move.  
  
FREDDIE  
Good.  
  
FLORENCE  
(responding immediately on the  
board)  
They're getting tired of the Commie-bashing.   
Frankly, I'm sick of it, too.  
  
FREDDIE  
(leaning over the board)  
Okay...then I'll just drop it at the press  
conference?  
  
He tries to kiss her; she turns her cheek.  
  
FLORENCE  
I don't think you can at this point.  
  
He pecks her on the cheek and leans back, shifting in his seat.   
Florence releases a knowing sigh and looks back at the board.  
  
Freddie makes a move.  
  
FADE TO:  
  
INT. MOSCOW AIRPORT--AEROFLOT GATE  
  
SUBTITLE: "Moscow Airport"  
  
Anatoly sits alone in the waiting area, thumbing through a Russian  
chess magazine. A split image of his face and Freddie's is on the  
cover. ALEXANDER MOLOKOV, a slim, rugged, nearly bald man in his early  
70s, sits across from him. He clears his throat, looks back to the  
gate, then at the magazine cover.  
  
MOLOKOV  
(perusing the cover image)  
A formidable adversary.  
(looks back up)  
With a formidable second. They work well  
together, I understand.  
  
ANATOLY  
(turns a page)  
You understand...  
  
More stony silence between as announcements come over the airport's  
loudspeakers in the background. Then:  
  
MOLOKOV  
You have been preparing for the match, I hope?  
  
Anatoly turns another page.  
  
MOLOKOV (CONT'D)  
I ask, because Trumper doubtlessly has. And  
you haven't approached me for (the past week) -  
  
ANATOLY  
I have, in my own way.  
  
MOLOKOV  
And what way is that?  
(No response. He sighs.)  
How is your wife?  
  
ANATOLY  
Well.  
  
MOLOKOV  
And did you ask her anything beyond that? Is  
that what you disappeared for a week for?  
  
ANATOLY  
She is fine.  
  
MOLOKOV  
Good. Here...  
(removes a book from his coat  
pocket, entitled "Trumper-Karpov,  
1978," the same volume in Anatoly's  
apartment)  
You forgot to pack this.  
  
Anatoly looks up and eyes Molokov warily. He closes his magazine,  
takes the book, and lifts up his briefcase. He opens it.  
  
MOLOKOV (CONT'D)  
An interesting volume.  
  
ANATOLY  
(as he puts the book in the  
briefcase)  
I am rated higher than Karpov -  
  
MOLOKOV  
And Trumper is rated higher than you, even  
without American inflation.  
  
ANATOLY  
He's mad...  
  
MOLOKOV  
He has a title! Which is more than I can say  
for you.  
  
An announcement, louder than those in the background, is heard in  
Russian.  
  
MOLOKOV (CONT'D)  
(gets up)  
Come, we are boarding now.  
  
Molokov walks to the gate. Anatoly folds his magazine and stuffs it  
inside the briefcase. He starts to close it when he takes notice of  
the magazine cover. CU on the picture.  
  
ANATOLY  
WHO NEEDS A DREAM?  
  
A MUSIC BOX begins to play, as though accompanying a dancing, tattered  
marionette.  
  
ANATOLY (CONT'D)  
(closes the briefcase)  
WHO NEEDS AMBITION?  
  
He gets up and trudges along to the gate, briefcase in hand.  
  
ANATOLY (CONT'D)  
WHO'D BE THE FOOL  
IN MY POSITION?  
  
He hands his ticket to the flight attendant and boards.  
  
FADE TO:  
  
INT. PIONEERS' PALACE--STUDIO - DAY  
  
A TEACHER sits across from YOUNG ANATOLY (age 10), a chessboard between  
them. No one else is in the room. Ornate Russian paintings and décor  
adorn the walls.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
ONCE, I HAD DREAMS  
  
CU HANDS  
  
As they set up the board.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
NOW THEY'RE OBSESSIONS  
  
DISSOLVE TO:  
  
INT. PIONEERS' PALACE--GREAT HALL  
  
Mid-game. Start on a CU of two players' hands, from the same angle as  
in the previous shot.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
HOPES BECAME NEEDS  
LOVERS, POSSESSIONS  
  
Pan through the spectators in attendance. Their expressions are pale  
and motionless.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
THEN THEY MOVE IN  
OH, SO DISCREETLY  
(Muted applause from the crowd.)  
SLOWLY AT FIRST  
  
LATER  
  
Molokov and Anatoly shake hands as most of the spectators file out. A  
beautiful woman with her back turned stands next to Molokov.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
SMILING TOO SWEETLY  
  
Molokov turns the woman around to face Anatoly. It is Svetlana – she  
is the epitome of Soviet decadence here, as richly decorated and  
opulent as the palace surrounding her. She could pass for a Bond Girl.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
I OPENED DOORS  
  
She offers her gloved hand; Anatoly looks at it, then at Molokov.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
THEY WALKED RIGHT THROUGH THEM  
  
Molokov nods. Anatoly looks at Svetlana, who smiles aristocratically.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
CALLED ME THEIR FRIEND -  
  
CU SVETLANA'S HAND  
  
PAN, following it as it comes closer to meeting his lips.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
I HARDLY KNEW THEM  
NOW I'M...  
  
CUT TO:  
  
INT. ANATOLY'S APARTMENT, MOSCOW - EVENING  
  
Anatoly sits in his leather armchair, a stark and wooden chess set in  
front of him. Molokov sits across from him, and Svetlana stands behind  
him, again rubbing his shoulders. Her appearance has changed back to  
as it was in her introduction.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
WHERE I WANT TO BE  
AND WHO I WANT TO BE  
AND DOING WHAT I ALWAYS SAID I WOULD  
AND YET, I FEEL I HAVEN'T WON AT ALL!  
  
Anatoly lurches forward to escape Svetlana's hands as he and Molokov go  
through a set of swift, vicious exchanges on the board.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
RUNNING FOR MY LIFE  
AND NEVER LOOKING BACK  
IN CASE THERE'S SOMEONE RIGHT BEHIND  
TO SHOOT ME DOWN AND SAY HE ALWAYS KNEW I'D  
FALL!  
  
INT. AIRPLANE--FLIGHT TO ITALY - NIGHT  
  
Anatoly sits next to the window, head cocked to the side and looking  
passively through it. Everyone else on board is asleep.  
  
ANATOLY  
WHEN THE CRAZY WHEEL SLOWS DOWN  
WHERE WILL I BE?  
BACK WHERE I STARTED...  
  
FADE TO:  
  
INT. ANATOLY'S APARTMENT, MOSCOW--KITCHEN - MORNING  
  
Anatoly is seated at a table, staring at a table placing. Svetlana  
brings him plates of cold cuts, cheese, bread, and butter. He just  
stares at them.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
DON'T GET ME WRONG  
I'M NOT COMPLAINING  
  
INT. AIRPLANE--FLIGHT TO ITALY - DAWN  
  
Anatoly shifts in his seat and ends up staring at the ceiling. The  
cabin lights come on to indicate the plane is about to land.  
  
ANATOLY  
TIMES HAVE BEEN GOOD  
FAST, ENTERTAINING  
  
INT. ANATOLY'S APARTMENT, MOSCOW--KITCHEN - MORNING  
  
Anatoly gets up from the table without having touched his food.   
Svetlana looks after him longingly and starts to clear his place.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
BUT WHAT'S THE POINT  
IF I'M CONCEALING  
  
INT. AIRPLANE--FLIGHT TO ITALY - DAWN  
  
The plane is stopped; he grabs his luggage from the overhead  
compartment and walks down the aisle.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
NOT ONLY LOVE  
ALL OTHER FEELING...  
  
INT. BALZANO AIRPORT - MORNING  
  
Anatoly steps out of the gate and is immediately flanked by a dozen  
microphones from American and international television affiliates.  
  
ANATOLY  
(to the press)  
NOW I'M -  
WHERE I WANT TO BE  
AND WHO I WANT TO BE  
AND DOING WHAT I ALWAYS SAID I WOULD  
  
Molokov and his aides hurry Anatoly along.  
  
ANATOLY (CONT'D)  
AND YET I FEEL I HAVEN'T WON AT ALL!  
  
INT. ANATOLY'S APARTMENT, MOSCOW--BATHROOM - DAY  
  
Anatoly runs some water from the sink and splashes it on his face. He  
rubs it in, relishing in it.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
RUNNING FOR MY LIFE  
AND NEVER LOOKING BACK  
IN CASE THERE'S SOMEONE RIGHT BEHIND  
TO SHOOT ME DOWN AND SAY HE ALWAYS KNEW I'D  
FALL!  
  
He looks at himself in the mirror and after a beat notices Svetlana  
standing behind him, holding one of the dishes she had cleared away.   
He turns and looks at her.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
WHEN THE CRAZY WHEEL SLOWS DOWN...  
WHERE WILL I BE?  
  
EXT. BALZANO AIRPORT - MORNING  
  
A luxurious black limo is waiting for Anatoly. He is swiftly ushered  
into it amidst a gaggle of KGB agents and other escorts.  
  
ANATOLY (V.O.)  
BACK WHERE I STARTED...  
  
INT. LIMOUSINE - MOMENTS LATER  
  
Anatoly watches the view through the car window as it begins to move.  
  
DISSOLVE TO:  
  
INT. TRAIN  
  
The Italian countryside continues to pass by the bay window outside  
Freddie and Florence's compartment. 


	3. Chess III Someone Else's Story

INT. TRAIN  
  
The Italian countryside continues to pass by the bay window  
outside Freddie and Florence's compartment. As before, a  
chessboard rests between the two of them, resting at equal  
height to the bottom of the window.  
  
FLORENCE  
(setting up a new game)  
...I'm just saying that he doesn't  
deserve the abuse you've been dishing  
out.  
  
FREDDIE  
(chuckling)  
Then what does he deserve?  
  
FLORENCE  
I don't know...some sense of civility...  
Definitely more than your impotence  
remark in Time.  
  
FREDDIE  
Okay...that might've been a bit much.  
  
FLORENCE  
You're just lucky that one didn't get  
printed.  
  
She turns the board around.  
  
FLORENCE (CONT'D)  
Here. You play black on this one.  
(opens with king-pawn)  
You do realize you're not the media  
golden boy you used to be? You'll be  
facing a harsh crowd in Merano.  
  
As they speak, the two move almost organically off of each  
other on the board.  
  
FREDDIE  
What, you mean because of Afghanistan?   
It's the Reds' 'Nam, Florence; we're the  
good guys now.  
  
FLORENCE  
They're not anti-American, Freddie.   
They're anti-you.  
  
VOICE (O.S.)  
And as long as they are, his name stays  
in print.  
  
WALTER DE COURCEY, the source of the VOICE, a medium-height,  
stocky man in his early 60s, decked out in a suit that  
would've been considered sharp in the late 1950s, stands in  
the doorway.  
  
FLORENCE  
(coldly)  
Mr. De Courcey. Hello.  
  
WALTER  
(ignoring her)  
Freddie, IBM's willing to give you forty  
grand for that endorsement.  
  
FREDDIE  
No sale.  
  
WALTER  
All they need's your signature on a  
proof.  
  
FREDDIE  
(raises an eyebrow)  
Sale.  
  
FLORENCE  
No sale! Their chess-playing programs  
aren't nearly up to par to even consider -  
  
FREDDIE  
I said "Sale."  
  
Florence shoots Freddie a bewildered look.  
  
WALTER  
That's great. We'll be in Merano soon...  
(points at Florence)  
You keep his game up to speed.  
  
FLORENCE  
Of course.  
  
Walter leaves.  
  
FLORENCE (CONT'D)  
"I said 'Sale'?!" I'm sorry, this isn't  
the Freddie Trumper who was -  
  
FREDDIE  
Who was happy in ten-dollar shirts and  
playing chess games for the thrill of it?  
  
FLORENCE  
Something like that.  
  
FREDDIE  
It's only money, Florence.  
  
We start to hear a PIANO.  
  
FLORENCE  
Let's just...drop it. Here...  
(starts to reposition the  
board)  
Start off with a standard Sicilian  
opening. We're both down a pawn...  
  
Her voice fades out.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
LONG AGO  
IN SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFETIME...  
  
DISSOLVE TO:  
  
EXT. PRINCETON UNIVERSITY--OUTSIDE WALKER HALL - DAY  
  
A chessboard is set up on a bench. A college-aged Florence  
looks at the position set up on the board.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
SOMEONE WITH MY NAME  
WHO LOOKED A LOT LIKE ME  
  
A hand disrupts the position; takes one of her pieces and  
puts her in check. She looks up into a college-aged  
Freddie's eyes. He sits down across from her.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
CAME TO KNOW  
A MAN AND MADE A PROMISE  
HE ONLY HAD TO SAY  
AND THAT'S WHERE SHE WOULD BE  
  
INT. TRAIN  
  
Outside the bay window is a train station; the view moves  
very slowly as the train begins to slow down. She packs up  
the board and pieces as Freddie puts on his jacket.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
LATELY, ALTHOUGH THE FEELINGS  
RUN JUST AS DEEP  
THE PROMISE SHE MADE HAS GROWN  
IMPOSSIBLE TO KEEP  
  
They leave, bags in hand. Our view stays on the bay window  
as the train comes to a full stop.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
AND YET, I WISH IT WASN'T SO  
WILL HE MISS ME IF I GO?  
  
EXT. TRAIN STATION  
  
Walter helps Freddie and Florence down from the train. The  
three talk a bit, their breath visible in the city's chill.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
IN A WAY  
IT'S SOMEONE ELSE'S STORY  
I DON'T SEE MYSELF  
AS TAKING PART AT ALL  
  
He hands some luggage to an ATTENDANT and walks off, striking  
up a conversation with Freddie as Florence sifts through her  
wallet. She tips the man and looks after Freddie.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
YESTERDAY  
A GIRL THAT I WAS FOND OF  
  
She hurries after them as the luggage is carted away.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
FINALLY COULD SEE  
THE WRITING ON THE WALL  
  
INT. MARRIOTT HOTEL LOBBY, PHILADELPHIA  
  
Florence is delivering a statement to a small cluster of  
REPORTERS as other eager FANS crowd the lobby. It is the  
aftermath of the scene described in the prologue; the banner  
still hangs overhead, as a pair of workers takes down the  
Soviet flag.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
SADLY, SHE REALIZED  
SHE'D LEFT HIM BEHIND  
AND SADDER THAN THAT  
SHE KNEW HE WOULDN'T EVEN MIND  
  
She says goodbye to the reporters and looks over at Freddie  
signing autographs, Walter at his side.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
AND THOUGH THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO SAY  
WOULD HE LISTEN IF I STAY?  
  
EXT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL, MERANO - DAY  
  
The sky is gray; a light flurry spots the scene as Walter,  
Freddie, and Florence step out of a limousine and walk to the  
hotel. Some other (two or three) cars pull up, carrying  
luggage, aides, attendants, bodyguards, etc.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
IT'S ALL VERY WELL TO SAY  
"YOU FOOL - IT'S NOW OR NEVER!"  
  
Florence starts to open the door; a BELLBOY holds it as  
Walter and Freddie walk inside. Florence looks back at the  
street.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
I COULD BE CHOOSING  
NO CHOICES WHATSOEVER  
  
EXT. PRINCETON UNIVERSITY--OUTSIDE WALKER HALL  
  
The scene from the photograph in the opening. Freddie and  
Florence lean towards each other across the chessboard,  
hesitant at first, before full-on lip lockage...  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
I COULD BE  
IN SOMEONE ELSE'S STORY -  
IN SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE!  
  
FLASH TO:  
  
INT. MARRIOTT HOTEL LOBBY, PHILADELPHIA  
  
Most of the reporters have dispersed, though one JULIA  
WATERS, a young blonde television personality stays behind  
interviewing him, a CAMERAMAN capturing the event. Florence  
stands next to him, half-smiling, eyes wandering.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
AND HE COULD BE IN MINE  
I DON'T SEE  
A REASON TO BE LONELY  
I COULD TAKE MY CHANCES  
FURTHER DOWN THE LINE  
  
She looks at the cameraman's equipment.  
  
INT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL--LOBBY  
  
Florence steps inside; she immediately eyes ANOTHER CAMERAMAN  
setting up to film something. A bustle of JOURNALISTS,  
REPORTERS, and CREW MEMBERS make it almost impossible to find  
either of the players. Florence is, at first, lost in the  
sea of them.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
AND IF THAT GIRL I KNEW  
SHOULD ASK MY ADVICE  
(starts to push her way to the  
center of the mob)  
OH, I WOULDN'T HESITATE  
SHE NEEDN'T ASK ME TWICE!  
  
She finally eyes Freddie, alone on a platform, raised just a  
few inches off the ground, next to the reception desk.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
GO NOW!  
I'D TELL HER THAT FOR FREE  
TROUBLE IS THE GIRL IS ME  
  
She makes her way to the platform...  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
THE STORY IS THE GIRL IS ME  
  
...and to Freddie's side.  
  
INT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL--LOBBY (BROADCAST VIEW) 


	4. Chess IV Press Conference

BROADCAST VIEW  
  
All eyes are on Freddie, Florence to his right and Walter in  
the background, talking with an anonymous MAN IN SUIT. At  
this point, Julia Waters stands in front of the scene,  
addressing the camera. In the bottom right of the screen is  
the slick "NBS" logo.  
  
JULIA WATERS  
I'm here right now in Merano, Italy,  
where World Champion Freddie Trumper has  
just arrived at the beautiful, newly  
renovated Palace and Schloss Maur Hotel,  
site of this year's championship. As  
many of our viewers know, Trumper,  
ignoring the concerns of the arbiter of  
this match, makes a very clear-cut  
political stance regarding this tournament.  
He has agreed to a special impromptu press  
conference that NBS will deliver live as  
part of our championship coverage. Rumor  
has it that he intends to apologize for  
various remarks made as he boarded at  
Newark Airport for a brief European Tour  
before these matches.  
  
CU FREDDIE AT PODIUM  
  
Freddie clears his throat. He looks out into the crowd.   
Having found their way to the front are Julia Waters, a  
TABLOID REPORTER, and a BRITISH REPORTER, and behind them a  
NEW YORK REPORTER, a SOVIET REPORTER, and a SPORTS REPORTER,  
each with their respective CREWS, ASSISTANTS, etc. More  
journalists are scattered throughout the lobby, along with a  
smattering of HOTEL EMPLOYEES.  
  
FREDDIE  
I'm sorry, I didn't have time to prepare  
an opening statement. I'll take your  
questions right away.  
  
JULIA WATERS  
(jumping right in)  
WHY DO YOU PERSIST WITH VICIOUS ATTACKS  
UNGRACIOUS REMARKS RE: OPPOENTS?  
  
TABLOID REPORTER  
(stepping forward, pen and pad  
in hand)  
IT SMACKS OF A LACK OF CONVICTION!  
ADMIT, YOU'RE UNDER DURESS -  
  
BRITISH REPORTER  
AND THAT YOUR ONLY SKILL LEFT  
IS FOR MONEY, NOT CHESS!  
  
FREDDIE  
(overlapping, into mics)  
One at a time, please...  
  
The room suddenly erupts in unison:  
  
ALL REPORTERS  
IF SOVIET LIFE'S AS GRIM AS YOU CLAIM  
THEN HOW COME THEIR BOYS ARE SO GOOD AT  
THE GAME?  
THOUGH YOU SWEAR THE AMERICAN DREAM  
IS CLEARLY THE BEST  
YOU'RE NO ADVERTISEMENT  
FOR LIFE AND TIMES IN THE WEST!  
  
FREDDIE  
(with a "Cut!" gesture)  
I said one at a time, or no one gets an  
answer!  
  
Walter turns briefly from the man he was talking to and  
smiles in Freddie's direction. Ms. Waters jumps in once  
again.  
  
JULIA WATERS  
WHY DID YOU RISK THE WHOLE MATCH BREAKING  
DOWN?  
(points her mic at Freddie)  
  
FREDDIE  
I don't know what you're talking about;  
what are you implying?  
  
JULIA WATERS  
ALL YOUR OUTRAGEOUS DEMANDS YOUR CONCEIT -  
  
FREDDIE  
(smirks)  
I don't see anything outrageous in  
demanding what I'm worth.  
  
NEW YORK REPORTER  
THEY PAY YOU ALL THAT YOU ASK FOR  
AND THEN YOU DEMAND EVEN MORE  
  
FREDDIE  
Look, I'm the reason you're all here.   
Who's ever heard of -  
(mispronouncing)  
"Surjievsky?"  
  
THREE REPORTERS - Julia, Tabloid, and British - take a few  
steps forward in unison, mics poised, crowding Freddie.  
  
THREE REPORTERS  
IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE  
WHAT WE'RE REPORTING  
WHY SO DISPARAGING?  
NOT VERY SPORTING  
  
FREDDIE  
Come on, are the Communists sporting? My  
God...  
  
THREE OTHER REPORTERS - Soviet, New York, and Sports - raise  
their mics over their heads and point them, underhand, at  
Freddie...  
  
THREE OTHER REPORTERS  
TELL ALL THIS TO THE  
UNITED NATIONS  
ARE YOU AN ASSET TO  
EAST-WEST RELATIONS?  
  
...framing him above and below with mics. Florence takes a  
step back.  
  
FREDDIE  
(a bit flustered; searching  
around the room)  
Tell me... Tell me one thing the Russkies  
have ever done for East-West relations?   
Do you guys have any serious questions?  
  
He points to a LOCAL REPORTER in the back.  
  
LOCAL REPORTER  
(brightly)  
WHAT'S YOUR IMPRESSION OF OUR LITTLE  
TOWN?  
  
FREDDIE  
(rolls his eyes)  
Pretty gray, cold, and dull, as I  
expected.  
  
BRITISH REPORTER  
WHERE WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE PLAYED -  
LENINGRAD?  
  
FREDDIE  
Leningrad was an insulting Soviet  
suggestion.  
  
SOVIET REPORTER  
WE ONLY TRIED TO BE FRIENDLY  
WE WOULD HAVE PLAYED IN NEW YORK  
  
FREDDIE  
You think I'm that damned naive?! I know  
damn well what your motives were!  
  
The SIX REPORTERS crowding him exchange the posturing of  
their mics - the first three on now on top, and the last  
three now on the bottom.  
  
SIX REPORTERS  
YOU PROTEST TOO MUCH!  
WE SEE YOUR PLOY, A  
BIG NOISE TO HIDE YOUR FEARS -  
PURE PARANOIA!  
  
FREDDIE  
(with conviction)  
I'm not paranoid; they're out to get me!  
  
He turns back to Florence, who mouths "Tone it down!" as once  
again, the entire room is erupting, in unison:  
  
ALL REPORTERS  
TELL ALL THIS TO THE  
UNITED NATIONS -  
ARE YOU AN ASSET TO  
EAST-WEST RELATIONS?  
  
FREDDIE  
You cannot be serious!  
  
At that, all mics save one, Tabloid's, retract, and the  
reporters carrying them retreat to their original positions.  
  
JULIA WATERS  
WILL YOU BE QUITTING FOR GOOD IF YOU  
LOSE?  
  
Freddie just glares at her.  
  
TABLOID REPORTER  
(jabs Freddie lightly with his  
mic)  
HOW COME YOUR SECOND'S A GIRL, LOVER BOY?  
  
FREDDIE  
Watch it! ...Excuse me?  
  
TABLOID REPORTER  
(again jabs Freddie lightly  
with his mic)  
HOW COME YOUR SECOND'S A GIRL, LOVER BOY?  
  
Freddie violently grabs Tabloid's arm and pushes him aside;  
Tabloid's papers and tape recorder go flying. Freddie barges  
off the podium, through the sea of reporters and eventually  
hotel staff, leaving Florence alone on the podium. She  
reaches down to help Tabloid off the ground. British comes  
forward, a bit flustered.  
  
BRITISH REPORTER  
WELL, WHAT CAN I SAY?  
HE'S OUT OF HIS TREE!  
  
TABLOID REPORTER  
(clenching his teeth)  
HE'S FINALLY FLIPPED...  
  
JULIA WATERS  
(also stepping forward to help  
Tabloid up; half to Florence)  
AND BETWEEN YOU AND ME  
HE'S NO HOPE OF RETAINING HIS CROWN  
IN THIS FRAME OF MIND  
  
THREE REPORTERS  
IN FACT HE SHOULDN'T HAVE COME HERE  
HE SHOULD HAVE RESIGNED!  
  
Florence stands straight immediately at that remark, looking  
down on the three.  
  
FLORENCE  
SMILE! YOU'VE GOT YOUR FIRST  
EXCLUSIVE STORY  
NOW YOU CAN BASK IN HIS  
REFLECTED GLORY  
(gestures a banner headline)  
"NAKED, UNPROVOKED  
YANKEE AGGRESSION"  
(eyes Tabloid reporter)  
OH, WHAT A CREDIT TO  
YOUR GREAT PROFESSION  
  
She picks up some of Tabloid's papers and thrusts them into  
his hand as she storms off after Freddie. More reporters  
gather around the scene.  
  
SPORTS REPORTER  
(into a camera)  
MUCH BETTER TO QUIT WHILE STILL NUMBER  
THEN QUEST TO DEFEAT REPUTATION, UNDONE  
  
NEW YORK REPORTER   
(to Soviet Reporter)  
THOUGH HE'S PROVED TO HIMSELF  
IT'S A COMMUNIST PLOT -  
  
SOVIET REPORTER  
IF YOU ASK ME, IT'S MONEY THAT DID IT  
AND STARTED THE ROT!  
  
The fervor of the room becomes unison once again.  
  
ALL REPORTERS   
IT'S SAD THAT THE BEST HIS COUNTRY'S  
PRODUCED  
IS CRUMBLING IN FRONT OF OUR EYES AND  
REDUCED  
  
DISSOLVE TO:  
  
TELEVISION SCREEN  
  
Freddie's attack and the aftermath replay on NBS.  
  
ALL REPORTERS (V.O.)  
TO A MINDLESS ABUSE  
WHEN HE SHOULD BE GRATEFUL INSTEAD  
REMEMBER, WE MADE HIM FAMOUS -  
WITHOUT US, HE'S DEAD!  
  
The screen is switched off. PAN BACK to reveal:  
  
INT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL--FREDDIE'S ROOM - NIGHT  
  
Florence crosses in front of the TV and heads back to  
Freddie's bed.  
  
FLORENCE  
Well, if they didn't hate you enough  
before -  
  
FREDDIE (O.S.)  
I'm sorry you had to pick up the pieces.  
  
Freddie sits on his bed, a table with chessboard pulled up to  
him. His luggage still isn't unpacked. Florence turns to  
him with her arms folded. He looks at her, then back at the  
board.  
  
FLORENCE  
Get some sleep, you need your rest.   
First game's tomorrow.  
  
FADE TO:  
  
INT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL--ANATOLY'S SUITE - NIGHT  
  
The room is decorated similarly to Anatoly's apartment in  
Moscow; Molokov and Anatoly sit across from each other at a  
chessboard, Anatoly studying the board and Molokov re  
creating a position depicted in an open book in front of him.   
A television is on across the room, presumably playing the  
aftermath of Freddie's press conference.  
  
ANATOLY  
What did I tell you? He's mad.  
  
MOLOKOV  
Don't be so easily deceived...  
(finishes setting up the  
position)  
There.  
  
ANATOLY  
We've been through this one before.  
  
MOLOKOV  
And we will go through it again.  
  
Anatoly folds his hands together and rests his chin on top of  
them. 


	5. Chess V Opening Ceremony

FADE TO:  
  
ELEVATOR DOORS  
  
Framed by gold, they fill the screen. A few seconds pass  
before a "Ding!" signals their opening, revealing Julia  
Waters, addressing the camera.  
  
JULIA WATERS  
Welcome to Day One of the 1980  
World Chess Championship and the  
beginning of our live coverage on  
NBS, your finest broadcasting  
service.  
  
As she steps out of the elevator, a TRACKING SHOT following  
her reveals:  
  
INT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL, MERANO--HALLWAY   
CONTINUOUS  
  
The corridor is tinted in warm yellows and oranges casting  
themselves on the off-white walls and burgundy carpeting.  
  
JULIA WATERS  
(addressing the camera)  
We have just been informed that  
reigning champion Freddie Trumper  
is not yet to be seen at the  
opening ceremony...  
  
As we follow her, DELEGATES, LOCAL OBSERVERS, FANS, and OTHER  
NEWS CREWS are revealed crowding around a number of people we  
can't quite make out.  
  
JULIA WATERS (cont'd)  
(backing into the center  
of the crowd)  
In the meantime, we will be posing  
a few questions to both the  
American and Soviet delegations to  
help better understand the highly  
politicized nature of this event.   
Remember - you heard it here first  
and only on NBS.  
  
She turns around; the CAMERA continues to move just a bit  
over her shoulder, revealing Molokov on the left and Walter  
on the right, flanked by their respective ENTOURAGES. They  
are all gathered in front of an ornate set of double doors.   
It should be noted that the Soviet entourage is practically  
hiding Anatoly from the media crews.  
  
AMERICAN REPORTER (O.C.)  
...regarding your player's  
unwillingness to host a press  
conference?  
  
A bar appears at the bottom of the screen with "Alexander  
Molokov, Soviet Chess Second" written on top of it.  
  
MOLOKOV  
Our player is pre-occupied with his  
game; he is very dedicated and  
intent on clinching his title -  
  
JULIA WATERS (O.C.)  
So as to suppress the humiliation  
you faced twice in the past decade?  
  
Walter chuckles; Molokov clears his throat.  
  
OBSERVERS  
NO ONE CAN DENY THAT THESE ARE  
DIFFICULT TIMES  
  
MOLOKOV  
I would not say such a thing, per  
se...  
  
OBSERVERS  
NO-ONE CAN DENY THAT THESE ARE  
DIFFICULT TIMES  
  
WALTER  
And we wouldn't dream of letting  
such thoughts betray our spirit of  
friendship.  
  
MOLOKOV   
(playing to the camera)  
Precisely!  
IT'S THE US VERSUS USSR  
YET WE MORE OR LESS ARE  
  
OBSERVERS  
NO-ONE CAN DENY THAT THESE ARE  
DIFFICULT TIMES!  
  
The observers gradually begin to parade themselves, almost  
dirge-like, forming a semi-circle behind Molokov and Walter.  
  
MOLOKOV  
TO OUR CREDIT, PUTTING ALL THAT  
ASIDE  
WE HAVE SWALLOWED OUR PRIDE!  
  
OBSERVERS  
THESE ARE VERY DANGEROUS AND  
DIFFICULT TIMES  
  
WALTER  
(turning to Molokov,  
extending his hand)  
IT REALLY DOESN'T MATTER WHO COMES  
OUT ON TOP -  
  
MOLOKOV  
(returning the gesture)  
WHO GETS THE CHOP!  
  
WALTER & MOLOKOV  
(to camera, smiling as for  
a photo op)  
NO-ONE'S WAY OF LIFE IS THREATENED  
BY A FLOP!  
  
They and the observers freeze in that position as the  
lighting of the hall switches to a dim blue. Three AMERICAN  
DELEGATES emerge from the rabble, distinguished by stars-and  
stripes pendants on their suit jackets. They weave past the  
interview scene and behind the frozen camera crews, possibly  
whispering in their ears.  
  
AMERICAN DELEGATES  
BUT WE'RE GONNA SMASH THEIR  
BASTARD!  
MAKE HIM WANT TO CHANGE HIS NAME  
TAKE HIM TO THE CLEANERS AND  
DEVASTATE HIM -  
WIPE HIM OUT, HUMILIATE HIM  
  
They freeze; the hall becomes awash in red, and seven SOVIET  
DELEGATES, distinguished by hammer-and-sickle pendants, do  
the same.  
  
SOVIET DELEGATES  
WE DON'T WANT THE WHOLE WORLD  
SAYING  
"THEY CAN'T EVEN WIN A GAME!"  
WE HAVE NEVER RECKONED ON COMING  
SECOND -  
THERE'S NO USE IN LOSING!  
  
Return to normal lighting as the broadcast continues; this  
time Walter in focus, accompanied by a bar at the bottom of  
the screen with "Walter De Courcey, Agent and Press  
Representative," scrolled across.  
  
WALTER  
(gesturing emphatically;  
grinning)  
IT'S THE RED FLAG UP AGAINST STARS  
AND-STRIPES  
BUT WE'RE PEACE-LOVING TYPES  
  
OBSERVERS  
NO-ONE CAN DENY THAT THESE ARE  
DIFFICULT TIMES!  
  
WALTER  
(puts his arm around  
Molokov)  
IT'S A SWEET HAIL-FELLOW WELL-MET  
AFFAIR  
FOR BOTH EAGLE AND BEAR  
  
OBSERVERS  
THESE ARE VERY DANGEROUS AND  
DIFFICULT TIMES!  
  
MOLOKOV  
(again returns the  
gesture, shaking Walter a  
bit)  
TO THOSE THAT SAY THAT THIS IS NOT  
A FRIENDLY CLASH  
DON'T BE SO RASH  
(releases his grip, closes  
in on the camera)  
I ASSURE YOU, COMRADES, THAT IS  
BALDERDASH!  
  
Another freeze as the lighting returns to a dim blue. Walter  
now joins the American delegates as they weave through the  
reporters present, whispering in their ears.  
  
AMERICAN DELEGATES (WALTER)  
WHAT A LOAD OF WHINING PEASANTS -  
THINKING THEY CAN WIN, THEY CAN'T!  
WHAT AN EXHIBITION OF SELF-DELUSION  
THIS ONE'S A FOREGONE CONCLUSION!  
  
Americans freeze with another red wash; the Soviets start  
moving, again mirroring the previous action, back to their  
original positions. Meanwhile, five silhouetted figures -  
four women surrounding a man - appear between Walter and  
Molokov, and the news crews.  
  
SOVIET DELEGATES (MOLOKOV)  
BUT ENOUGH OF ALL THIS BEATING  
'ROUND THE BUSHES OF DETENTE  
WE INTEND TO COLLAR THE YANKEE  
DOLLAR  
WE SHALL TRASH THEM, THRASH THEM!  
  
Return to normal lighting as the silhouetted figures are  
revealed to be the Arbiter and his 4 Assistants. Walter and  
Molokov are stunned. The Americans scatter back to their  
original positions.  
  
ARBITER  
HOW GOOD TO FEEL THAT  
AS THIS GREAT EVENT BEGINS  
IT UNDERPINS  
(grabs Walter & Molokov's  
hands; slowly brings them  
together)  
OUR QUEST FOR PEACE  
THE BONDS OF COMMON INTEREST  
(locks their hands)  
OF EAST AND WEST  
  
EXTREME CU on the handshake. Another blue wash...  
  
AMERICAN DELEGATES  
AS LONG AS OUR MAN WINS...  
  
And a red wash.  
  
SOVIET DELEGATES  
AS LONG AS OUR MAN...  
  
Flash back to normal view and lighting. The Arbiter is  
firmly holding Walter and Molokov's hands in place.  
  
ALL DELEGATES  
WINS!  
  
JULIA WATERS  
(to camera)  
Tensions are high as -  
  
OBSERVER (O.S.)  
Oh, my God!  
  
General pandemonium, whispers, and the occasional screechy  
fan-girl cry of "It's Freddie!" as one of the news cameras is  
lifted off a crew member's back. It becomes evident that  
it's none other than Freddie himself, wearing a snazzy three  
piece suit, who has taken it. He focuses first on the  
Assistants wooing the Arbiter, and we shift back and forth  
between his POV and a third-person.  
  
FREDDIE  
WHAT A SCENE, WHAT A JOY!  
WHAT A LOVELY SIGHT -  
(spins around, films the  
championship banner over  
the elevator entrance)  
WHEN MY GAME IS THE BIG SENSATION!  
  
He turns around again, pushing through the frantic mass of  
REPORTERS and FANS.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
HAS THE MOB'S SPORTING TASTE  
ALTERED OVERNIGHT?  
HAVE THEY FOUND NEW SOPHISTICATION?  
  
He pushes further, into the Soviet delegation...  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
NOT YET - THEY JUST WANT TO SEE  
  
And past them, to Anatoly, arms folded, sheepishly trying not  
to notice the camera.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
IF THE NICE GUY BEATS THE BUM!  
  
Pushing into an extreme close-up of Anatoly, now pinned up  
against the double-doors. The Russian finally half-smiles at  
the camera.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
IF IT'S EAST-WEST  
AND THE MONEY'S SKY-HIGH  
(again surveys the fanatic  
mob)  
THEY ALL COME!  
  
He finally turns the camera to reveal Florence, who has been  
standing beside him since he entered.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
May I introduce my second, Ms.  
Florence Vassy.  
  
He passes the camera back to the news crewman he took it  
from, then turns back to Florence and kisses her on the  
cheek.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
(half-whispering, to  
Florence)  
YOU CAN RAISE ALL YOU WANT  
IF YOU RAISE THE ROOF  
SCREAM AND SHOUT -  
(breaks off, hamming it  
up)  
AND THE GATE INCREASES!  
  
An eruption of camera flashes.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
(to various news cameras)  
BREAK THE RULES, BREAK THE BANK!  
I'M THE LIVING PROOF!  
  
The Arbiter grimaces.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
(to Arbiter, indicating  
the fans)  
THEY DON'T CARE  
HOW I MOVE MY PIECES!  
(to Reporters)  
I KNOW I'M THE BEST THERE IS  
BUT ALL YOU WANT IS A SHOW  
  
He pushes himself through the double doors, parading himself  
into a state-of-the-art broadcasting center.  
  
INT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL--BROADCASTING CENTER -  
CONTINUOUS  
  
Television monitors and camera controls all over the walls  
are locked in on multiple angles of another room we haven't  
seen yet. Cool lighting casts itself on the several tables  
and rows of chairs throughout, set up like a small arena.  
  
FREDDIE  
(to cameras)  
WELL THAT'S ALL RIGHT -  
I'LL BE GLAD TO OBLIGE!  
  
All begin to follow him inside.  
  
FREDDIE (cont'd)  
(spreading his arms)  
S.R.O! S.R.O!!  
  
ARBITER  
Mr. Trumper! So good of you to  
show.  
  
Around the two, people begin to take their seats, the  
inevitable reporters begin to crowd Freddie, delegations  
gather, and the screens on the wall flicker on and off.  
  
FREDDIE  
It's an honor and a privilege to be  
here, Mr. Arbiter, to shove at the  
Russkies what they shoved at us.  
  
MOLOKOV  
(appears behind the  
Arbiter)  
Mr. Arbiter - !  
  
ARBITER  
(raises his hand)  
Mr. Trumper, I have already firmly  
established -  
  
FREDDIE  
I know, I know. You won't get a  
peep of (people-farming?) from me.   
But, before we begin...  
  
ARBITER  
Yes?  
  
The Assistants pout their lips at Freddie.  
  
FREDDIE  
(tugging at his collar)  
It's about the climate controls; I  
don't feel that the...heat will be  
entirely conducive to my ability to  
play.  
(begins to unbutton his  
shirt)  
It's just...too hot...  
  
ARBITER  
I'll see what I can do.  
  
FREDDIE  
(to Molokov)  
I'm sure you can sympathize, what  
with being from the land of  
Hitler's frostbitten nose and all.  
  
He now opens his shirt, revealing, in both English and  
Russian (Cyrillic letters), a t-shirt boldly silk-screened  
with the words "OUT OF AFGHANISTAN!" Camera flashes abound.  
  
The Arbiter firmly grabs Freddie by the arm.  
  
ARBITER  
IF YOU'RE THINKING OF THE KIND OF  
THING  
THAT WE'VE SEEN IN THE PAST  
  
The Assistants begin to button up Freddie's shirt; he is  
grinning ear to ear.  
  
ARBITER (cont'd)  
(numerating)  
CHANTING GURUS, WALKIE-TALKIES,  
WALKOUTS, HYPNOTISTS, TEMPERED  
FISTS -  
NOT SO FAST!  
  
Florence pulls Freddie aside before the Assistants finish.  
  
ARBITER (cont'd)  
(to Reporters)  
THIS IS NOT THE START OF WORLD WAR  
THREE!  
NO POLITICAL PLOYS  
(waves Freddie and Anatoly  
to come to him)  
I THINK BOTH YOUR CONSTITUTIONS ARE  
TERRIFIC  
  
The Assistants escort the two players to the Arbiter;  
Freddie's shirt isn't quite tucked in.  
  
ARBITER (cont'd)  
SO, NOW YOU KNOW  
(places one hand on each  
player's shoulder)  
BE GOOD BOYS!  
  
He leads the players to the far end of the room, to a small  
door that looks as though it would lead to a broom closet.  
  
ARBITER (cont'd)  
I'M ON THE CASE  
CAN'T BE FOOLED!  
(waves his finger)  
ANY OBJECTION  
IS OVERRULED!  
  
ASSISTANTS  
(mirroring the Arbiter as  
they escort the players)  
HE'S ON THE CASE -  
CAN'T BE FOOLED!  
(wave their fingers)  
ANY OBJECTION  
IS OVERRULED!  
  
The Assistants break off from the players and begin to circle  
the triad of the Arbiter, Freddie, and Anatoly. Anatoly  
smiles at them.  
  
ARBITER (cont'd)  
OH, I'M THE ARBITER  
AND I KNOW BEST  
  
ASSISTANTS  
(channeling soul girls)  
HE'S IMPARTIAL, DON'T PUSH HIM -  
HE'S UNIMPRESSED!  
  
The Arbiter opens the door and checks the room.  
  
ARBITER  
(blocking the view)  
YOU'VE GOT YOUR TRICKS -  
GOOD FOR YOU!  
  
Freddie tries to take a peak. An Assistant pops up  
immediately, lowering her glasses and looking directly into  
Freddie's eyes, effectively blocking his view.  
  
ARBITER (cont'd)  
BUT THERE'S NO GAMBIT  
I DON'T SEE THROUGH!  
  
All four of the Assistants stylistically shut the door as the  
Arbiter turns back to the players.  
  
ASSISTANTS  
HE'S THE ARBITER -  
HE KNOWS THE SCORE!  
  
ARBITER  
FROM SQUARE ONE, I'LL BE WATCHING  
ALL - SIXTY-FOUR!  
  
The Assistants dance out into another circle, addressing any  
reporters who may have followed this scene.  
  
ASSISTANTS  
HERE WE SEE A MAN  
UNDER GREAT PRESSURE  
TWO FIGHTS TO FIGHT, YET  
HE COULD NOT LOOK FRESHER!  
  
They throw themselves back at the Arbiter, brushing against  
Anatoly and Freddie in the process.  
  
ASSISTANTS (cont'd)  
(caressing the object of  
their affection)  
CHESS "SANS POLITIQUE" -  
UNITING NATIONS  
OUR GREATEST ASSET TO  
EAST-WEST RELATIONS  
  
The Assistants roll off of the Arbiter, and he again opens  
the door.  
  
ARBITER  
Here it is, precisely as laid out  
in the match contracts.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
THE ROOM  
  
The room is small, maybe double the size of the broom closet  
the door seemed to indicate. Two chairs and a table with  
chessboard take up most of the space. Dozens of small  
cameras line the walls, and one prominently hangs from the  
ceiling, directed straight down at the chessboard.  
  
FLORENCE (V.O.)  
The American delegation objects...  
  
INT. PALACE AND SCHLOSS MAUR HOTEL--BROADCASTING CENTER -  
CONTINUOUS  
  
Florence is at Freddie's side; Molokov is at Anatoly's. The  
Arbiter still stands in front of the door; the Assistants,  
meanwhile, have begun to set up the board.  
  
FLORENCE  
It's far too small; it doesn't take  
into account our player's  
(condition) -  
  
FREDDIE  
(takes a deep breath,  
smirks)  
I think I can handle it.  
  
ARBITER  
These specifications were given to  
us by your delegation, Ms. Vassy.  
  
Florence fidgets; Molokov whispers something in Anatoly's  
ear.  
  
ANATOLY  
(to Florence)  
I would hate to have to fly back to  
Moscow on account of someone else's  
claustrophobia, Ms. Vassy.  
  
FLORENCE  
(eyeing Anatoly)  
The American delegation withdraws  
its objection...  
  
ARBITER  
Very well, then. If the players  
would take their seats...  
(leads Freddie and Anatoly  
into the playing area)  
...game play will commence...  
  
A cerebral waltz, the "Chess Instrumental," begins to play.  
  
FADE TO:  
  
INT. MAKESHIFT NEWSROOM  
  
Julia Waters sits as a news anchor behind a desk. WILL  
HARTSTON, a dashing young man in a suit, sits next to her.  
  
JULIA WATERS  
(overlapping with the  
Arbiter's previous line)  
...began at 10 o'clock today,  
Merano time. First, a brief recap  
as we return to the first game,  
from NBS Correspondent Will  
Hartston. 


End file.
